


Boys of Summer

by Victori



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Breaking Up & Making Up, Fluff and Angst, Getting Together, Good Morgana (Merlin), Homophobic Language, Idiots in Love, M/M, Pining Arthur, Pining Merlin (Merlin), Uther is the worst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:34:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22142626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Victori/pseuds/Victori
Summary: "It started, as most problems in Merlin’s life, with a boy.A bloody gorgeous boy, with eyes as blue as the sea and wet blond hair plastered to his forehead. An Adonis if there ever was one, complete with a Roman nose.A boy who Merlin spilled Rocky Road all over in a stunning display of clumsiness."ORMerlin and Arthur met, fell in love, and messed it up. Maybe their summer romance isn't as far gone as they think.Written for The Merlin/Arthur Kissfest 2019, Prompt: Summer. Rating is for language.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 173
Collections: The Merlin/Arthur Kiss Fest 2019





	Boys of Summer

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: This fic includes homophobic language and references to abuse. Stay safe <3

The boardwalk was all but deserted. Merlin stared at the sea in front of him. Just weeks ago, it had been sweltering hot, and families had flocked to the beach, eager to dip in the cool water. Gaius’ pharmacy/ ice cream parlor had been packed with tourists, all demanding something cold and sweet to rescue them from the heat.

Now, though, there was hardly a person in sight. Many of the stand owners of the boardwalk had closed up shop for the season, but for some reason it felt more final this time than it had in the past. Merlin had relayed this thought to his mother, who just gave him a sad, sympathetic smile. _I don’t think it’s forever, Merlin,_ she’d said, running her hand through his hair like she’d done when he was a child. _You’re young. Sometimes everything feels like forever._

Merlin had thought he’d found forever. Now the memories just echoed around him.

_It started, as most problems in Merlin’s life, with a boy._

_A bloody gorgeous boy, with eyes as blue as the sea and wet blond hair plastered to his forehead. An Adonis if there ever was one, complete with a Roman nose._

_A boy who Merlin spilled Rocky Road all over in a stunning display of clumsiness._

_“You idiot!” The boy shouted, staring at his ruined white shirt. “Watch where you’re going!”_

_“Sorry!” Merlin winced. He felt kind of terrible. “I’ll get you some napkins.”_

_“Do you know how much this shirt costs?” The boy huffed angrily. “More than your entire paycheck, I’ll bet.”_

_“I said I was sorry,” Merlin frowned. “It was a simple mistake.”_

_“Simple, indeed! You must be a complete moron. You’d be more suited for the circus!”_

_Merlin was told to be nice to customers. Merlin was also very bad at following directions._

_“If anyone is more suited for the circus, it’s you. I hear they’ve been looking for an ass.”_

_The boy spluttered. “You can’t address me like that!”_

_“I think you’ll find that I say what I like. Rudeness begets rudeness, don’t you think? Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go work for a living.”_

_Merlin heard the bell on the door ding behind him, and he secretly hoped he would never see gorgeous-arrogant-Adonis ever again._

_Fortunately for him, the boy was back as he was closing up shop._

_“I’m sorry for the way I acted today,” the boy said. His blue eyes were sincere. “I shouldn’t have treated you like that.”_

_Merlin crossed his arms. “So you admit you were being an ass?”_

_“I’ll admit that I was being_ rude, _and I am very sorry. And I’m prepared to make up for it.”_

_Merlin raised his eyebrows. “How?”_

_“Dinner?” The boy blushed. “As friends. Or acquaintances. I’ll pay, I just…I think I’d like to start over.”_

_Merlin pretended to think, though he already knew his answer. “Sure, why not.”_

_The boy grinned, and Merlin’s heart skipped a beat. “Can I have a name,” the boy asked, “or should I just make one up for you?”_

_“I’m Merlin.” He held out his hand in greeting._

_The boy took it. “Arthur.”_

_\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

The carnival was as empty as the rest of the boardwalk. It didn’t even look like the rides were operating. Merlin passed empty booth by empty booth, searching for any sign of life among the ghost town. The carnival’s bright lights had lit up the night as if it were the middle of the day, illuminating the smile on Arthur’s face and making him even more blinding than usual.

A deep pain curled around his heart like a snake. Merlin squeezed his eyes shut, pushing back the tears threatening to spill from his eyes. With his eyes closed, Merlin could almost imagine he was there all over again.

_“I can’t believe you convinced me to come to this,” Arthur said, staring warily at the gaudily bright carnival in front of them._

_Merlin snorted. “I didn’t convince you of anything. I said, “Me and my friends are going out!” and you said, “Where are we going?””_

_A tiny bit of color rose in Arthur’s cheeks. It made Merlin positively giddy. “Well, if I had known we were going to this god-awful shitshow, I would have never agreed to come along.”_

_“Again, you weren’t invited,” Merlin reminded him, with no real malice behind the words. Arthur had become a central point in his life, as well as a frequent customer of the pharmacy, despite rarely buying anything. Merlin would have missed the prat if he hadn’t come along._

_“Well I can’t leave now,” Arthur defended. “My sister is obviously becoming very good friends with Gwen.”_

_“They get along like a house on fire.”_

_They looked at the pair of girls, who were whispering and giggling conspiratorially._

_“If this continues, that may turn out to be more than a figure of speech.”_

_Merlin rolled his eyes and, with courage he didn’t know he possessed, grabbed Arthur’s hand and dragged him deeper into the carnival._

_“Come on, turnip-head, it’s time you learned how to have some fun.”_

_Arthur’s disdain quickly turned into wonder, awe, and, best of all, joy. The pompous-posh-boy routine that Arthur had been slowly shedding for Merlin fell away all at once, leaving a beautifully carefree Arthur behind. They were free to act childish, be stupid, and enjoy the benefits of being young. The weight of the world had no hold on them; that night, they were just two young men allowed to live without consequence._

_“Merlin, this is literally the best thing I have ever tasted,” Arthur proclaimed, taking another bite of funnel cake._

_“So, do you take back what you said?”_

_Arthur cocked his head to one side. “Said about what?”_

_“About the fair, you dolt. I thought you said you’d hate it.”_

_Arthur scoffed. “Well, that was before I tried the food. And the rides. The company isn’t half bad, either.”_

_There was an emotion Merlin couldn’t name in his eyes. That look should be illegal, Merlin decided. No one should be able to make him feel so exposed with a single look._

_“Step right up, boys and girls! A simple game, an easy win!”_

_“What’s that?” Arthur asked, looking towards the game booth._

_“That’s just a carnival game,” Merlin answered with a shrug._

_“Do you want to play?”_

_“Nah. They’re normally rigged anyway.”_

_Arthur grabbed Merlin’s hand—which definitely did_ not _make Merlin a little weak in the knees—and marched them over to the booth._

_“Ah, young man, care to test your skill?”_

_Arthur nodded, pulling out a few bills and handing them over. “How do you play?”_

_The man gestured behind him. “Three balls, three chances to knock over those bottles.” He handed Arthur the balls. “Best of luck.”_

_“Arthur!” Merlin hissed into his ear. “I told you. The games are probably rigged!”_

_Arthur smirked. “Maybe you’re just bad at them.”_

_The first ball almost missed completely. The second hit the bottles, but barely moved them from their stack._

_Before Arthur could throw the final ball, Merlin took hold of Arthur’s wrist, and blew gently on the ball in his hand. At Arthur’s confused look, Merlin gave a small smile. “For luck.”_

_Arthur’s shoulders straightened, and he threw the ball with what seemed to be more force than before. It knocked the bottles over with a clang._

_“Congratulations!” The game-man said, holding out the prize. It was a stuffed animal, a dragon, possibly the ugliest thing Merlin had ever seen._

_Arthur took it and immediately shoved it into Merlin’s arms, not looking him in the eyes._

_“I’m a little too old for toys,” he explained, still pointedly looking anywhere but at Merlin. “And I no longer trust Morgana with stuffed animals, so that leaves you.”_

_Merlin looked at the dragon. It was a disgusting shade of green, and its fabric was cheap and a little dirty. One of the eyes was loose, almost falling out. It was almost grotesque._

_Merlin thought it was beautiful._

_“It’s hideous and I adore it,” Merlin announced, hugging the dragon closer to his chest. Arthur was looking at him with those bright eyes again. “Thank you, Arthur.”_

_Arthur cleared his throat. “Yes, well, you’re the only person I know who could love something as ugly as that.”_

_It was a backhanded compliment that made Merlin’s heart skip a beat. “I’m going to name him Kilgarrah.”_

_“What kind of a name is that?”_

_“I read it in one of Gaius’ books. It’s an ugly name, but also kind of magnificent, don’t you think?”_

_Arthur laughed, sounding a little choked. “Only you, Merlin.”_

Kilgarrah now sat in Merlin’s room, atop his old dresser. Merlin had almost thrown him away a dozen times, only to save him at the last moment and crush the toy in a hug.

It somehow made him feel less and more lonely at the same time.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Merlin shouldn’t be wandering the beach at night, especially not with how cold it was getting. He knew that. Still, he always found his way back, listening to the waves crash against the sand, gazing out to where the horizon met the sea. Every other sound drowned out, until he could only hear his heartbeat and the wind and the waves, everything that had satisfied him before but now made him feel empty.

He tugged his sweatshirt closer around him to block out the chill. Except it wasn’t his, was it? It was borrowed, given without the expectation of return. It was a deep crimson, and just a bit too big, so that the sleeves hung past his clenched fists. It smelled of saltwater with a hint of expensive cologne dabbled on the collar.

But no matter how much Merlin burrowed into it, the sweatshirt never quite blocked out the chill.

_The beach was abandoned, at least for the time being. Every sane person was home in bed, preparing themselves for the following day of activities. But Merlin and Arthur both drove each other a little mad, so there they sat, toes dug in the sand, bonfire raging in front of them._

_“I can see why you like it here.” Arthur spoke in a hushed tone, as if he were afraid to disturb the pleasant silence around them. “It’s so quiet.”_

_“It’s a getaway inside a getaway,” Merlin said._

_Arthur leaned back on his elbows, and stared at the sky in wonder. “I never knew there were so many stars.”_

_“You posh city slickers,” Merlin teased, bumping his shoulder. “I’ll bet you didn’t know there was fresh air either.”_

_“I’ll bet you’ve never seen a building taller than that grocery store down the street.”_

_Merlin scoffed. “I don’t need to. I can see the entire world from the top of the Ferris Wheel.”_

_Arthur turned over to look at Merlin. “You really love it here, don’t you?”_

_“I love it more when there aren’t any tourists here.”_

_They were so close, faces inches apart. Arthur’s eyes were that deep, soulful blue, that Merlin could drown in. Even with the fluttering in his stomach and the pounding in his chest, Merlin somehow found the courage to continue, in no more than a whisper._

_“Although, with some tourists, I love it even more.”_

_Arthur’s eyes widened, and his expression turned beautifully, unbearably soft as he leaned forward. It was just a soft, tentative press of lips, a question, holding the fate of the universe itself. Merlin answered, transformed it into an exclamation. He pressed forward, lips slotting against Arthur’s like they were meant to be there. They moved with the fluidity of the tide; with each touch they were pulled further in, a gravity they couldn’t deny demanding that they be closer. Merlin’s arms wrapped around Arthur’s neck, while Arthur’s found their place around his waist._ This is love, _thought Merlin giddily._ This is home.

_Arthur pulled back just far enough to press their foreheads together in a gesture that was achingly tender. Arthur was staring at Merlin like he was the most precious thing in the universe, to be guarded and cared for by every star in the sky._

_“You know,” Arthur choked out, “I think I love it here too.”_

_He didn’t have to say it. Merlin already knew._

_They held each other until the sun peeked out above the waves._

_\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

Merlin had finally broken the promise he’d made to himself. He was supposed to be making a delivery for Gaius, when he made an accidental turn onto the wrong road. Maybe it wasn’t so accidental, just a product of a distracted mind and muscle memory. Merlin nearly crashed the car into a stop sign when he realized where he was.

He just stared at the house in front of him. It was a beachfront property, a summer home only used by the wealthy. This home was special, though. Merlin could close his eyes and picture everything in his head: the way the sunlight looked streaming through the bedroom upstairs, the creaky floorboard on the third stair, the smell of pancakes wafting from the kitchen to the living room. He could walk through the house blindfolded and never trip or stumble. It felt like _home._

As Merlin watched the empty house, he couldn’t help but think that it must miss him too.

_Merlin’s seen the movies. He knew that, eventually, everything falls apart. But he never expected something like this._

_It was a quiet evening. Merlin was curled into Arthur’s side, as if he had never belonged anywhere else. They were watching one of those stupid rom-coms, purely so Arthur could make fun of it and call Merlin a sap, while being incredibly sappy himself. They had the house to themselves. Morgana was out, and Uther had barely graced the summer house with his presence, presumably holed up in some office in the city. It was blissfully quiet._

_The credits rolled, but Arthur seemed unwilling to let Merlin get up. He was half asleep, eyes barely open, and when Merlin tried to wiggle out of his grasp, he only held on tighter._

_“M’rlin,” he grumbled in protest._

_“You have to let me get up, prat,” Merlin chastised, with no heat behind the words. “It’s late, I have to go home.”_

_“No. Stay.” Arthur pulled him closer._

_“Arthur, your father will be home in the morning.”_

_“You’ll be gone by then.” He nuzzled at Merlin’s neck. “Please, just…stay with me tonight. Just for a few minutes.”_

_“Just for a few minutes,” Merlin relented. He could never refuse Arthur anything._

_Merlin snuggled in closer, using Arthur’s chest as a pillow. Arthur gently carded a hand through Merlin’s hair. He leaned into the touch. Merlin could feel the rise and fall of Arthur’s chest, could hear the soft thump of his heart, and it was better than any lullaby. His eyes grew heavy, coaxing him towards sleep. At first, he resisted. But Arthur was solid and warm, and the room was quiet, so he let himself slip away. Just for a little while, at least._

_He was on the precipice of sleep when he felt Arthur’s hand momentarily cease its motion. Lips pressed gently to his forehead._

_“Love you,” came the murmur, tinged with sleep and incredibly fond._

_Merlin hid his smile in Arthur’s shoulder, and let sleep pull him under._

_He woke to shouting the next morning._

_He was harshly jolted awake, a pair of unfamiliar hands shaking shoulders, belonging to a man who radiated fury. He fell off the couch, noting Arthur’s absence next to him as he hit the floor._

_“You!” Uther Pendragon, tinged red with anger, was screaming. “Get away from my son, you fucking pervert.”_

_Arthur grabbed the great Uther Pendragon by the arm. “Don’t fucking touch him,” he snarled._

_“Stay out of this.” Uther shrugged him off._

_“No!” Arthur grabbed his arm again and spun his father around, looking him dead in the eye. “You don’t have a say in this. Out of everything in my fucking life that you have your hands on, you can’t control this!”_

_A crack sounded through the house. Arthur stumbled backward, fingers brushing the red fingerprints forming on his cheek. Uther’s hand was still raised, as if ready to strike again._

_Merlin rushed forward, desperate to put something in between Arthur and the unbridled rage of his father. Uther reached for him. “Get the fuck away from my son.”_

_Merlin braced for the blow that never came. Morgana was there, blocking Uther. Her eyes flared with defiance as she stood between them, brave and unyielding._

_“Morgana, move.” Uther gritted out, voice dangerously low._

_She lifted her chin. “No.”_

_Uther grabbed her wrist. “I won’t ask again.”_

_In the chaos and the shouting, Merlin found a second of quiet in Arthur’s eyes. “Merlin, go.”_

_Merlin’s fingers brushed the bruise on Arthur’s cheek. “No, I’m not leaving you—”_

_“Go,” Arthur said, more urgently this time._

_Before Merlin could blink, Arthur was up, hitting his father with a punch that made him back away from Morgana._

_“Merlin, go,” he said, one last time. “I’ll deal with this. It’ll be okay, I promise.”_

_If Merlin had known that would be the last time he’d see Arthur, he would’ve stayed, he would’ve helped._

_But, thinking that this was forever, he ran out the house, tears in his eyes, leaving the outraged shouts and screams of Uther Pendragon behind him._

_Two days later, Merlin received his last text from Arthur. It simply read, “I won’t be seeing you again.”_

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Arthur couldn’t focus on anything. He’d been staring at the document in front of him for half an hour, and had barely read a sentence. Interning at the law firm would be good, his father said. It would ‘straighten him out’, make him ‘forget all that nonsense’. Make him remember that he was supposed to go to law school next year, get married to a trophy wife, have two kids (a boy and a girl) and become a partner in his father’s law firm. He would work in this office until he died, not caring about any client or deal as long as he was getting paid.

Pleasing his father, that was his purpose. Before, he’d just accepted his fate, convinced himself he could be happy with that.

Now he knew what happiness felt like, and knew he was going to be miserable.

The thoughts popped into his head all day without prompting. Merlin’s smile as he passed random people on the street, and them smiling back, because Merlin’s light was contagious. His nerve, his unforeseen strength that left Arthur in awe sometimes. Merlin’s wit, which never failed to make Arthur laugh. His wisdom, how he knew Arthur better than anyone, always knowing exactly what to say. How he looked in Arthur’s sweatshirt. The way he shook the sand and water out of his hair. How he held Arthur’s hand, the way he felt in his arms, how his kisses felt like blessings and Arthur would take every one he could get, because they were purer than gold and ten times more valuable.

More often than not, Arthur would think about Merlin’s eyes, the color of sunshine on the sea, deep and beautiful. He would think about how tears had spilled out of them, reddening his cheeks. He’d think about how much pain was inside them the second before Merlin had run from the house, and how he felt a dull knife slide through his chest at the very sight of them. Arthur never wanted him to look like that again.

Arthur tried not to imagine Merlin’s face when he received his final text.

Morgana still wasn’t speaking to Uther. Arthur forced down his anger every time Uther spoke to him. Uther treated him like a disobedient child, and he felt just as chastised as one in every single conversation.

“Don’t fucking let him treat you like that,” Morgana had told him.

“He’s my father.”

Morgana’s nostrils flared and her eyes narrowed. “Maybe by blood, Arthur, but he’ll never be your family. You owe him nothing.”

She’d exhaled, rubbing her eyes with her hands. “Just because he’ll be miserable doesn’t mean you have to be too.”

Could he be happy now, though? After he’d broken Merlin’s heart, messed everything up? Arthur chose a life, and he chose wrong. He knew his place, his home, and he left it behind. Merlin might not even want to see him. Who could blame him?

A sudden clarity descended upon him. He could see two paths in his life right now, and he had to choose. He looked at the cold paperwork in front of him, a life laid out for the taking. He thought of the beach, the boardwalk, the quaint shops lining the streets. He thought of Merlin, and realized his choice had been made long before he ever admitted it to himself.

Arthur’s body moved on its own, heart at the helm, steering him down the path he needed to follow. His feet marched with a renewed strength, down the marble hall, past the stacks of case files, past Uther’s secretary, telling him how his father was a busy man but failing to slow him in his quest.

Arthur slammed the door open, and stared his father in the eyes. Definitely not his family, not with the cold glare he received in return. But no amount of ice could stop the fire he felt in his soul.

“Uther, we’re going to have a fucking chat.”

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was another night without much sleep. He could see the beginnings of dawn through his curtains, yet his stomach was so twisted into knots that he could never get comfortable enough to drift off. Instead, he just stared at the ceiling, keeping his brain from going in unwanted directions.

There was a knock on the door.

He groaned, dragging himself out of the bed that wasn’t warm enough to entice him to stay. He prepared himself for whatever kind of person had the nerve to knock on a door at 6 a.m.

What he was not prepared for was Arthur Pendragon standing on his front porch with a bouquet of flowers clutched in his hands.

For a minute, they just stared at each other. Merlin’s heart began to ache with renewed intensity as he took in the sight. He wanted to memorize every freckle, line and crevice on Arthur’s face, to store it away forever. For a moment, he wondered if this was a hallucination, if his sleep-deprived brain was taunting him with the object of his daydreams and nightmares.

Arthur seemed to be having similar thoughts. He looked at Merlin as a castaway might look at land: disbelieving, with the tiniest shred of hope and joy beginning to seep through. His bloodshot eyes were accentuated by the dark circles underneath them. His usually-neatly-combed hair stuck up in all directions. He looked absolutely _wrecked._

Merlin opened his mouth to talk, although no words were coming to mind. Arthur held up his hand.

“Just let me talk for a second?” Arthur swallowed. He sounded small and vulnerable. “Please, just, before you say anything…let me talk. Please?”

Merlin felt himself nod.

“I know you probably don’t want to hear anything from me.” Arthur ran his hands through his hair. “What he did…what _I_ did… God, it was unforgiveable. I’m so sorry, Merlin, for everything. You have no idea how much I wish I could take it all back. If you’ll let me, I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you.”

Merlin felt his heart stop.

“I have no right to be here right now, I know that. But I also know that there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

There were tears in his eyes when he looked up. “God, I’m the worst at this,” Arthur choked out. “I drove all night, bought flowers, and I’m fucking it up right at the important part.”

Arthur took a shaky breath in. “I’m trying to say that I love you. I think I’ve loved you for a really long time, and I don’t see myself stopping anytime soon. You are _everything_ to me, Merls, and leaving you was the biggest mistake I’ve ever made.”

The words hung still in the air. Arthur had handed his heart on a platter to Merlin, vulnerable and sincere. Merlin could see how Arthur’s hands trembled, could see the panic deeply set in every feature. It killed him to see Arthur so afraid, when he really had no reason to be.

“Please, Merlin,” Arthur pleaded softly, “say something.”

Merlin cracked a watery grin. “I thought you told me not to talk.”

Arthur exhaled sharply, running his shaky hands through his hair. “God, Merlin, you nearly gave me a heart attack. I thought…Christ, you almost killed me.”

Merlin shrugged, giddiness rising up inside him. He murmured, “The day’s still young yet,” and launched himself at Arthur, who dropped the flowers to catch him.

He smashed their lips together, desperate to remember what Arthur tasted like, what he felt like. Merlin had forgotten how soft his lips were, how right his arms felt settled around his waist. His knees nearly buckled when Arthur got over his surprise and pressed into Merlin, pouring every feeling he couldn’t name into a kiss. Devotion. Longing. Guilt. _Need._ Each one was carved into Merlin’s skin like a tattoo, as if Arthur never wanted Merlin to forget how loved he was.

“God, Merlin,” Arthur said against his lips, between kisses. “You have no idea how much I missed you.”

“I think I have some idea,” Merlin shot back.

At some point, the kissing dissolved into Arthur just _holding_ Merlin, face pressed into his shoulder, one hand around his waist and the other tangled in Merlin’s hair, holding him there. Arthur nuzzled into Merlin’s neck, like he couldn’t ever get close enough.

He pressed his forehead to Merlin’s. “I need to know, Merlin. Do you…” he trailed off.

Merlin gave him a light kiss on the nose and gazed into his eyes, willing his answer to travel deep into Arthur’s bones and reverberate in his soul so that it may echo for eternity.

“Arthur, I think I’ll love you forever.”

They’d talk, later. They’d work things out. Merlin would learn how Arthur quit his job and cut himself off from his father. There’d be problems to come, but they’d face them, hand-in-hand.

But at the moment, Merlin couldn’t stop himself from grinning.

_So,_ he thought, _this is forever._

Merlin found that he didn’t mind it one bit.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_I can tell you, my love for you will still be strong/ After the boys of summer have gone_

_-Don Henley_

**Author's Note:**

> I barely finished this in time. I heard the song "Boys of Summer" by Don Henley and thought of this immediately. I kinda used the lyrics as a jumping off point so if you listen you'll probably see some similarities to the fic lol. I do understand that this technically doesn't fill the "Summer" prompt because most of it is set sometime in autumn but I'm just gonna take some creative liberties since I'm basing this off of a song. Hope you enjoyed!


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